


you're scattered glitter in the sky, you are the stars.

by WordsByMarcy



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Christmas, Don't copy to another site, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Gon writes songs bc he's a bit emo in love, HxHHoliday2020, KilluGonHolidayPresent, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Romance, Slight Angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:02:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28193649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsByMarcy/pseuds/WordsByMarcy
Summary: “Augh,” Gon hears Killua groan, sensing the eye roll without having to see it, “you’re doing this again?” Gon finally turns his gaze forwards, landing on pixelated blue eyes. He mentally curses his internet connection for becoming his best ally and worst enemy. They’ll never do justice to Killua’s eyes, but he guesses it’s the only way he can see them.“I’m doing what again?” Gon asks while suppressing a mischievous grin. He knows how much Killua hates it when he plays dumb.“You’re muted,” Killua replies, unimpressed.“Right,” Gon says out loud, knowing he cannot be heard. He moves forward from his desk chair, his hand reaching out to his computer to finally select the unmute option. “There,” he smiles to the annoyed expression through his computer screen, “can you hear me now?”Killua clicks his tongue, “Duh.”“Or perhaps you prefer when I’m muted,” Gon challenges to the crinkles between Killua’s eyes.“Oh shut up,” Killua dares to roll his eyes once more, “I’m not the coward who mutes himself when he plays guitar.”- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -(Or the one were Gon's never seen snow before, so Killua promises he'll make it snow for him).
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 25
Kudos: 103
Collections: KilluGon "A Gift From Me To You" Holiday Event





	you're scattered glitter in the sky, you are the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Hewwooooo, I have no idea what this is, I literally don't even know what this has become. Haven't written in 6 months so akjdshfkjsdhfkjsdhf It might be shit, but hopefully is good shit to enjoy! hAHHAAHHA anyways, i'm sure this might get worse by the end but hopefully you'll stick to it and get something out of reading it :)
> 
> This was written for the Killugon "A Gift from Me to You" Holiday Event, with the prompt "A present". I'd like to thank telxrnya, reeyachan and sincerelysamedt for inviting me to participate, you guys are too kind <33

**You're scattered glitter in the sky, you are the stars.**  
  
By: WordsByMarcy

* * *

  
“You're scattered glitter in the sky,” a voice sings softly — guitar strings humming a melody — “you are the stars.”

It’s the end of October and the leaves have changed color, just like every season. It’s almost the start of November and it’s getting colder, just like it should. Winter is approaching, meaning snow should arrive soon — but it never does. Stars remain in the sky, and they’ll probably never fall down — Gon will probably never get to hold one. Just like he’ll probably never get to hold Killua’s hand, not the way he wants, anyway. 

“And I'm still waiting on winter,” Gon continues to gently strum his guitar, “the season where snowflakes light up the sky.” He intends to sing to the boy sitting in front of him, but his eyes remain glued to his guitar.

“You said you’ve never seen snow, right?” he hears Killua ask, his voice is deeper and the farthest it's ever been. 

“The season where I wait all night for snowing stars,” Gon sings to the silence of his room, but he might’ve whispered, even if he didn’t have to.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“The season where I hope to hold your hand,” Gon finishes with a lazy strum to his guitar.

“Augh,” he hears Killua groan, sensing the eye roll without having to see it, “you’re doing this again?” Gon finally turns his gaze forwards, landing on pixelated blue eyes. He mentally curses his internet connection for becoming his best ally and worst enemy. They’ll never do justice to Killua’s eyes, but he guesses it’s the only way he can see them. 

_Unless it snows._

“I’m doing what again?” Gon asks while suppressing a mischievous grin. He knows how much Killua hates it when he plays dumb. 

“You’re muted,” Killua replies, unimpressed. 

“Right,” Gon says out loud, knowing he cannot be heard. He moves forward from his desk chair, his hand reaching out to his computer to finally select the unmute option. “There,” he smiles to the annoyed expression through his computer screen, “can you hear me now?”

Killua clicks his tongue, “Duh.”

“Or perhaps you prefer when I’m muted,” Gon challenges to the crinkles between Killua’s eyes. 

“Oh shut up,” Killua dares to roll his eyes once more, “I’m not the coward who mutes himself when he plays guitar.” 

_Coward?!_

“I'm not a coward,” Gon grumbles while looking away from the screen, and he’s definitely not pouting. _He’s not._

“Yeah yeah,” he can see from his peripheral vision the dismissive wave of Killua’s hand, “can’t fool me with the countless times you’ve done that.” 

Gon slouches against his chair, still avoiding eye contact. Even when Killua’s eyes are just numbered pixels, it remains hard to look at them when Gon’s avoiding the truth. He’s not sure why he even started this, it’s like being completely see-through while willingly putting on a blindfold to Killua’s eyes. And there should never be a blindfold on Killua’s eyes to begin with. Too pretty to cover up, though they’re probably sharp enough to see through cloth. 

Killua can probably hear him sing even when Gon mutes. 

Yeah, Killua probably knows Gon better than he knows himself. He could so easily break him apart and piece him back together. Killua most likely knows all the properties of Gon’s heart.

That’s an easy one. _It’s all him. All Killua._

Determined, probably for the first time since he last saw Killua at the world tree, Gon slides his laptop closer on his desk and proceeds to position himself to play the guitar once more. Killua’s widened eyes probably deciphered his intentions from the moment Gon first blinked in resolve. And just like that, Gon lets himself be heard. His voice will most likely sound pained like he’s suffering from unrequited love. And perhaps he is, after all, that’s what he’s most afraid of. To want and not be wanted. It might be selfish, but it might be expected from the heart of a 16-year-old. From a heart that knows what it’s like to not beat anymore. 

Gon gives an experimental strum to his guitar — he clears his throat and proceeds to choose a point in his room to look at throughout the whole song. 

His eyes land on a wooden frog Killua had carved and mailed to him the last Christmas. He might not be singing this while looking at the only reason this song exists, but at least he's looking at a part of him. 

At last, Gon clears his throat and takes a leap. “All I’ve done is gaze at the sky,” his fingers move delicately through the guitar strings, “while wondering why you’re trapped in the night.”

“Wondering why you left me to be with the moon,” his voice wavers, “in her shine.” 

Gon wonders if perhaps he’s being too obvious with his lyrics, but he’s too afraid to look into Killua’s eyes. Afraid of knowing that Killua knows. _He must know._

“But it’s all me,” Gon continues to sing despite his head being anywhere else but this timeline, “It has always been me who leaves first. It was always my hand that didn’t reach, but closed in a fist.” 

Through the turmoil that is Gon’s mind at the moment, his eyes dangerously shift from the wooden frog on his table to the still widened eyes on his computer screen. 

“And I’m blinded once I look upwards again,” Gon must be a masochist if he’s still singing while looking directly at Killua’s face. “You’re scattered glitter in the sky,” does this count as a confession? “You are the stars.” 

It could count as a confession if only Killua showed any emotion other than shock. By this point, shouldn’t his cheeks already be tainted with a pretty pink? 

“And I’m still waiting on — Killua?” Gon interrupts himself, while his fingers continue to dance through the guitar strings in autopilot. “Killuaaaaa? Hey, are you hearing this?” 

Killua remains where he is with unwavering shock. The only indication that Gon’s internet connection isn’t screwing him over is the rhythmic movement of the second hand on Killua’s wall clock. His heart beats twice with every ticking of the clock hand.

“Killua, say something,” Gon tries again while his fingers remain in the song — and Killua remains unresponsive. And still, the only thing grounding Gon is the ticking of the clock. 

“Chocolate sucks ass,” Gon usually prefers not to curse, but desperate time calls for desperate measures. “You’ve got a dumb face.”

No response.

“That’s a lie, your face is…..really pretty. You must know.”

Still, no response. And that _definitely_ should’ve gotten a response, no matter how shocked Killua was. Which can only mean…

“You silenced the tab!” Gon exclaims as his fingers finally catch up to his brain — the music stops playing. His body language must’ve given himself away, though Killua’s pretty perceptive because next thing he knows Killua’s hands are moving in front of him and his expression swiftly changes into something neutral. Composed.

Killua was always good at masking his emotions anyway, though it hurts to be on the receiving end of his composed face. He’s used to being the reason his expressions were anything _but_ composed. 

“Is this the part where I’m supposed to clap?” Is Killua’s attempt at a distraction, but Gon’s not letting him go that easily. 

“You silenced the tab,” Gon repeats, going straight to the point — like he always does.

“I didn’t,” Killua raises an eyebrow, almost in a challenge. _Typical_. 

“You did,” Gon spits back, stubbornly.

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Technically,” Killua’s the first one to stop the nonsense that is their back and forth, “I just lowered the volume.” 

That makes Gon snort, “To what? Zero?”

“Basically,” Killua shrugs. And he still looks composed, with a hint of amusement dancing on his lips. Gon knows that everything _but_ the amusement is for show, and he hates being the reason Killua feels the need to mask his emotions. 

So, _apparently,_ neither of them wanted for Killua to hear the song. 

_Figures_.

Gon chuckles half-heartedly, “What are we doing?” he mumbles. He buries his face into his hands, elbows resting on his desk while his guitar slowly slides into his lap. “We’re stupid,” Gon’s voice comes out muffled.

He hears Killua scoff, “You’re stupid.”

And, for some reason, Gon feels lighter at that. 

“I’m sure the big stupid award goes to you tonight,” Gon manages to tease back after lifting his head from his hands. For a second, Killua looks surprised — there’s a crack to his composure and his body almost physically melts into a relaxed position. His eyes look clearer, even when it’s all pixels.

“You’re the one who started all this muting thing,” Killua throws his hand in exasperation, “if anyone holds the stupid title it’s you.” 

“Maybe I’m just shy,” Gon argues back while crossing his arms. 

Killua snorts, “Yeah right, and my hair’s black.”

Gon hums as if he’s actually considering this possibility. _Which he is._ He’s picturing Killua with dark hair — and let’s just say that he likes what he’s seeing.

“I like that,” Gon replies with what can only be described as a silly smile, “it would make your eyes pop even more.”

Killua’s response blossomed scarlet against his cheeks. Gon didn’t know roses could bloom on snow — then again, Killua’s known for defying all laws of nature. He’s sure his eyes weren’t supposed to be lovelier than the sky. _Yet here we are._

“Fuck you,” Killua replies with surprising control over his voice, considering the state he’s in. 

And it’s exactly what Gon expected Killua to answer because he has the perfect response.

“You’d like that,” Gon smirks, “wouldn’t you.”

“Oh my god,” Killua groans a complaint while covering his reddened cheeks with his hands, “stop trying to find ‘witty’ ways to respond to my ‘fuck you’s’ on google. None of them will be funny!” And he’s right, that one _did_ come from google. From yahoo answers, if we’re being specific.

And Gon thinks they _are_ quite funny, thank you very much.

“Alluka!” Killua calls out while letting his hands fall onto his lap, “you can have the laptop back, I’m done talking here!”

“No, you aren’t,” Gon replies immediately. “Killuaaaaa,” he whines when he sees a challenging glint on blue eyes, ”you promised we’d try staying up until midnight.”

“I did,” Killua nods, “but someone’s a sleeping beauty that drops dead when the clock hits eight. And you’re testing my patience,” he adds while narrowing his eyes. 

“It’s ten,” Gon points out.

Killua turns to look at his wall clock, and it’s probably for show since Gon’s certain his computer can perfectly tell him the time of day. “That’s true,” Killua turns back with a playful smile, “who are you, and what have you done with Gon.” 

And just like that, they continue as if nothing happened. Though two questions remained unanswered in their minds. _Why didn’t Gon want to be heard? And why didn’t Killua want to hear?_

“So anyway, you gonna sing Wonderwall on that thing or what?”

* * *

October has come and passed — leaves changing color, just like every year. It’s the end of November and it’s getting colder, just like it should. It’s almost the start of winter, meaning snow should arrive soon — but it never does. They’re at the beach after all, it never snows at the beach. Though it almost looks like it did, with Killua sitting beside him. 

“Listen to this,” Gon barely hears Killua’s voice before feeling something cold pressed against his ear. It’s a seashell, Gon infers from the texture, also from the fact that they’ve been collecting them all afternoon. And his assumption gets confirmed the moment he hears the faint sound of the sea against his right ear. It’s the gentle crash of the ocean waves, a soothing and nostalgic sound, a seashell’s melody. 

“It’s pretty,” Gon says after Killua removes the shell from his ear. 

Gon observes as Killua sits back crossed-legged on the sand, looking at the ocean with a thoughtful look in his eye. Gon follows his line of sight just in time to see the waves crash. They’re at a decent distance to not get soaked, but close enough to get hit by a couple of water drops. It’s like an ocean’s greeting, bathing them in itself. Gon feels at home here, in these endless pools of water and grains of sand. He loves spending Christmas at Whale Island, and he’s more than ecstatic for Killua to spend it here with him. They’re seventeen now, though it feels like they’re back to being twelve, the promise of adventure painted in their smiles. It also feels like they’re fourteen again — when it hurt to love — and it still does, mostly. 

After staring at the ocean for so long that he almost goes cross-eyed, Gon lets his gaze wander back to Killua, just in time to watch him place the same shell against his own ear. Killua swiftly closes his eyes and blissfully hums to the rhythm of the ocean waves. There’s a visible rise and fall to his chest, steady and constant, hypnotizingly grounding. Gon stares at Killua for what feels like an infinity trapped within a few seconds. The corners of Killua’s lips gradually turn upwards, as if Gon would give him all the time in the world to smile — which of course he would. _He absolutely would._

Killua’s as pretty as he was yesterday. As he was a year ago through his computer screen. As pretty as he was when they took the exam for the first time. He’s pretty, and he’s older, and Gon’s heart still painfully aches. 

“It’s amazing how you can hear the ocean waves,” Gon can almost feel Killua’s faint smile as vividly as he feels the grains of sand against his palm. “You know,” Killua opens his eyes while removing the shell from his ear, “the shell kinda reminds me of you Gon.”

Gon blinks in surprise. _Did he hear correctly?_

It reminds Kilua... _of Gon?_

Killua lazily digs the shell into the sand, only the apical section of the spiral sticking out. He quietly chuckles while leisurely grabbing fists of sand, slowly dumping it down unto the buried shell. “It’s funny,” he speaks up, though it mostly looks like he’s talking to himself and the shell. “I bet that if I placed my ear against your chest, I could hear your heartbeat in ocean waves.” 

Gon couldn’t use words like Killua could, and that was unfair. _Very unfair._ It was like Killua spoke in a different language, one where words are too pretty and too intricate. 

“Gon.”

One that made Gon’s heart stumble and do silly things, like beat too hard or too fast to be worth calling ocean waves. 

_“Gon?”_

There’s this numbness that’s spreading like a wildfire through his skin, starting on his fingertips and ending at the base of his skull. He’s consumed by this feeling that’s preventing him from feeling any external stimuli. There’s no longer nerve endings on the surface of his skin, just this emotion that tastes both bitter and sweet, it’s blue and it’s white, it feels cold and hot at the same time. 

_“Gon!”_

Gon finally snaps out of his delirious state of mind, he blinks twice and slowly regains his sensations back. He swiftly looks up to stare back at Killua's concerned, and maybe slightly self-conscious, gaze. “Sorry,” He manages to mutter, “you caught me by surprise,” Gon lets out a breath of laughter. 

Killua looks down and starts to mindlessly draw pointless figures on the sand, “no...I’m sorry.” He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, then finally decides to say, “I didn’t mean it to come out that way?” And Gon can’t figure out if that’s supposed to be a question or a statement, though Killua said it with confusion, like Killua himself didn’t know. 

“In what way?” Gon asks since it was the only thing he could think of saying. 

“A lame way,” Killua chuckles, “that was...Ummm,” he looks away — cheeks beginning to heat up. “That was corny,” he mumbles, then groans, “augh, just forget whatever I said.” 

“I don’t think I will ever forget,” Gon automatically replies, like his mouth knew his heart better than his mind. And it might’ve been an embarrassing thing to say since Killua answers with, “Can this conversation stop?” while covering his face with both hands, finally stopping the mess he was making on the sand.

“We can,” Gon chuckles while digging his own fingers inside the sand. The way the grains lightly scrape his fingers makes him fully bounce back to reality, rather than wander around in these enigmatic emotions. “Though I will never forget—”

Killua whines with a complaint.

“—But _I am_ surprised. How’d you learn to talk like that?” Gon dares to ask a pretty dumb question.

Killua physically pauses at that. “Like what?” he asks with a comically offended look. 

Gon shrugs, looking at him through the corner of his eye, “Like that, all elegant and pretty?”

“Augh,” Killua groans and lets his back fall to the ground. “Shut up, you’re the one who writes songs here,” he mutters while looking at the sky, “let’s change topics.”

Gon supposes he does write songs, but they’re just silly ways to verbalize emotions too complex to talk about. Killua looks like he speaks for the stars, Gon’s words are just bitter and sad. 

With a sigh, that’s far too emo for his liking, Gon imitates Killua’s position — back against the sand and eyes on the blue yonder. There are numbered clouds in the sky, Gon could count them with the fingers of one hand. And the weather is wonderfully nice, starting to get colder, but not cold enough for what he wants.

Gon wants for stars to fall. _He just really wants it to snow._

“How’s Alluka?” Gon decides to ask as a new topic of conversation. 

“Good, probably ecstatic to be with Palm and not me right now,” Gon can hear Killua’s smile, “she won’t get rid of me that easily though.” 

Gon’s smile morphs into a grin. “What will you get her for Christmas?”

“Some paint?” Killua hums in thought, “I think she likes to draw, I’ve seen her doodle on napkins and her skin.” 

“Her skin?”

“Yeah, on the back of her hands, her arms, sometimes _my_ arms.”

“Isn’t ink bad for your skin or something like that?” Gon questions while scrunching his face in confusion. He’s sure Aunt Mito told him something along those lines.

“Nah,” Killua waves his hand dismissively in the air, “urban legends, it’s like mildly toxic but it’s such a small quantity that there shouldn’t be a cause for concern.” 

“I see, said the blind man.”

Killua snorts, “You’re stupid...plus,” they both simultaneously shift their heads to look at each other, like two magnets on the sand. “I’m sure we’ve done shit that’s more cause of concern than ink on skin.”

“Gone to war,” Gon chuckles.

“Gone to fucking war,” Killua says with a hint of disbelief like he wasn’t raised to paint scarlet the night with someone’s heart. “Anyways,” he breaks eye contact with Gon and goes back to the sky, “I was planning on buying her some watercolors and a sketchbook? I still have to figure the artsy stuff out.”

Gon continues to stare at Killua. “That sounds nice,” he says after some time, Killua humming in agreement. And they stay like that for a while, Gon watching Killua watch the sky. 

The soothing sound of the ocean waves almost lulled Gon to sleep. The only thing keeping him awake is the smooth, pale skin of Killua’s neck. It looks soft to the touch, an invigorating color, so alluring in its paleness that it makes Gon want to taint it in a soft pink of a blush. It looks bewitchingly alien and entirely made of this world at the same time. Killua looks like a fallen cloud against the sand, paper-white, skin made of snowflakes. 

“I want to hear it,” Killua suddenly says.

“Hear what?”

“Your song,” Killua turns back to look at him, “I want to hear it.”

 _But I don’t want you to hear it,_ Gon almost replies. And he probably would’ve, that’s if Killua’s eyes weren’t so determined, so ready to receive. But he shouldn’t receive this, shouldn’t receive Gon’s bitter longing. 

_All I've done is gaze at the sky while wondering why you’re trapped in the night._

This undeniable want for Killua to return to him. 

_Wondering why you left me to be with the moon, in her shine._

This yearning for snow, for stars to fall. 

_You’re scattered glitter in the sky, you are the stars._

It’s not fair. It isn’t fair for Killua to openly receive all this ugliness. All these tainted feelings he didn’t ask for. Gon wants to love him, not just ask for Killua’s heart. He wants to be better, do better. “Next year,” Gon manages to hold Killua’s stare, “I'll gift you a better song. Next year.” 

“Is that a promise?” Killua replies while holding out his pinky towards Gon. And that’s probably the closest they’ll ever get to holding hands. 

“It’s a promise,” Gon hooks his pinky with Killua’s, an action that definitely did not make Gon’s heart do a somersault. _It did not._

“Good,” Killua smiles, and it should’ve ended there, but he always knew how to surprise Gon.

“Then next year, I’ll make it snow,” Killua promises. 

And Gon believes him. 

* * *

November has come and passed — the weather getting colder, just like every season. It’s the last few weeks of December and Christmas is right around the corner, just like it’s meant to be. Winter is here, meaning snow should arrive soon — _but will it?_

It never does, _but he promised._

Killua promised he would make it snow, and that’s enough for Gon to believe that this year will be different.

For years, right after the World Tree, Killua was trapped somewhere far away, far from Gon’s reach — like a star in the sky. He could see it burning a million miles away, but he could never touch it unless he wanted a burnt hole in his hand. Gon’s never seen snow before — but snowflakes, those he could touch. If only Killua were a fallen star, a snowflake in his hand. If only there were snowing stars.

What a selfish desire of his heart. 

But Gon wasn’t the same person he was yesterday, nor the one he was the moment he wrote that first song. He wasn’t 12 and naive, he wasn’t 14 and grieving. He’s 18 and very much in love with the way Killua says his name. Very much in love with the way he blushes, he walks, he talks. Gon was very much in love with Killua’s everything, perhaps since the first moment he knew what it was like to lose him — when he demanded he be let free from the Zoldyck estate. 

Gon knows what it’s like to love Killua, and that’s all he will ever want. The reason why he didn’t want Killua to hear his first song, the reason why he wrote a new one. 

“Gon, stop frowning,” he hears Alluka’s voice call out to him, “it’s not a good look on you.”

“It’s not?” Gon asks, mostly because he finds himself still wandering around his mind.

“Not unless Killua likes wrinkles,” Alluka’s voice sounds closer now, making Gon turn to his right, his eyes landing on a familiar blue. Alluka’s smiling up at him, a knowing look on her face, and she looks beautiful against the sunset.

“It seems that good looks run in the family,” Gon mentions conversationally, making Alluka chuckle. 

“You should be saying that to my brother,” she replies with a mischievous glint in her eyes, and it seems it’s not just the blue in them that reminds him of Killua. 

“But Killua never listens when I tell him how pretty he is,” Gon pouts, mostly for show, and turns his gaze towards the dock. Killua’s ship was supposed to arrive at 5pm, and it’s already 5:15, which makes Gon a bit anxious even though he knows ships in Whale Island are everything but punctual. “Why was it that you both arrived in different ships?” He asks once more, just checking if he missed something in the answer.

“I honestly don’t know,” Alluka sighs, also turning her gaze towards the dock. “My brother didn’t tell me,” Gon can hear a slight trace of exasperation in her voice, “ the dummy, he thinks he can handle everything by himself.” 

“Why did he have to choose Christmas to arrive late,” Gon whines, mostly because he can, he’s got special rights to whining, but also because this whole situation is making him even more nervous about the song.

And Alluka, as if reading his mind, decides to ask exactly about that. “What will you gift him for Christmas?”

 _Ah, yes,_ the song is a gift after all. Gon didn’t know emotions could be gifted, but he’s glad he’s found a way.

“I-I...wrote him a song,” Gon mumbles, looking down at his feet. And if Alluka saw a trace of scarlet on his cheeks, it goes unacknowledged. 

“You guys are adorable,” Alluka giggles to herself, and the way she mentions them both makes it seem like she knows something about Killua that he doesn’t know. 

“What will be your gift?” Gon returns her question. 

At that Alluka visibly lights up, she grabs the left sleeve of her pink sweater and rolls it up to her elbow. “We got matching tattoos!” Alluka beams while showing off the gleaming yellow flowers adorning the skin of her inner forearm. 

“They’re gorse flowers!” Gon observes with a grin on his face, “Alluka that’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” she agrees with her own grin, “we just wanted good things to come out of needles.” 

“What? Aren’t vaccines good enough?” A new voice joins their conversation, making them both turn their gaze towards the source. 

It’s a voice that makes Gon’s heart turn itself inside out, showing a kaleidoscope of hidden emotions. A voice that makes him feel things he’s never felt, and probably will never feel without it. 

Killua stands a couple steps to their right, looking as breathtaking as ever. Snowflakes for his skin, the ocean in his eyes, and dandelions all over that cloud-like hair of his. 

Yeah, it’s Killua. It was him years ago, it’s still him today. It will always be him.

“Brother!” Alluka runs up to Killua and throws her arms around his neck, “Took you long enough.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Killua rolls his eyes while wrapping his arms around Alluka’s middle, “wasn’t my fault, the ocean’s too slow.” 

“Ah, so it’s the ocean’s fault,” Gon blurts out before he can stop himself. Killua’s eyes are on him by the second, and Gon swears he can see himself through them — like watching your reflection on the water. “I missed you,” and it appears Gon’s mouth has a mind of its own, “happy birthday,” it also appears that it’s half as smart as his own. 

“Merry Christmas,” Alluka corrects while disentangling herself from the embrace.

“Yeah, that,” Gon replies smartly. 

“Yeah, merry birthday to you too,” Killua greets back while still looking at his eyes, entranced. 

“Oh my god,” Alluka groans loudly, “it’s Merry Christmas, you dumb fucks.” She gently shakes her head and starts walking away, “I’m gonna help Aunt Mito with the tree,” she mentions with a wave of her hand, “this conversation is far too dumb for my standards.”

Gon and Killua give her their own wave of their hands while remaining where they are, fixated on each other. It seems that the older they get the more difficult it is to initiate eye contact — and then it’s impossible to break it. 

“Hey,” Gon decides to say after some time, “you look—”

“—Don’t,” Killua interrupts him while walking closer, swiftly taking in Gon’s features with his eyes, finally coming to a stop at his hair. “You...cut your hair,” Killua comments while coming to a halt a few steps in front of him, “it...looks good.” 

Gon feels his face heat up and at that Killua’s gaze briskly shifts upwards. “So you get to comment on my appearance and I don’t?” Gon huffs while crossing his arms, “seems a bit unfair.” 

Killua smirks and finally looks back at him, “Just a little payback.” 

“What?!” Gon exclaims, “I would always let you give me compliments!”

“Okay, and how do you want me to compliment you when you one-up me by saying embarrassing shit first.”

“It’s not a competition!”

“Hmmm,” Killua’s smirk grows impossibly wider, “It’s not?”

“Nope,” Gon shakes his head while looking away, “not falling into your trap.”

Killua feigns annoyance with a click of his tongue. “Nerd,” he calls him as if _that_ was an insult to Gon. 

“Look who’s talking,” Gon chuckles in amusement, _“Jimmy Neutron.”_

Killua shrugs as if he expected that answer, _“Sheen Estevez.”_

“Ehhhhhhh,” Gon’s hands come up to grip at Killua’s shoulders so he can slightly shake him. “Take that back!” Gon demands, making Killua snort, “I’m smarter than him!”

“Oh, _you are,”_ Killua agrees with a lazy smile, “your hairstyle is similar though.”

“My hair—”

“Gon! Killua!” Both their heads turn towards the direction of the new voice. “Stop flirting and help with the decorations,” they see Leorio call out to them at the top of a hill, “you stupid lovebirds.” 

“Lovebirds?” Gon questions.

“We’re not flirting you shitface!” Killua exclaims to the back of a retrieving Leorio. 

“We’re not?” Gon asks with a raised eyebrow, turning to look at Killua.

And Gon anticipated anything but confidence — the look Killua gives him is not the one he expected. His blue eyes are gleaming and his lips have turned upwards into a sly smirk, “You wish,” he tells Gon with a playful tone. And just like that, he turns around and leaves, shouting something incomprehensible at Leorio while cupping his hands around his mouth. 

Gon’s left with an astonished look on his face, and a question on his mind. _Did Killua just willingly flirt with him?_

  
  
  
  
  
  


They’re all currently sitting in a circle around a campfire while exchanging Christmas gifts with each other. Gon has received and given everyone a gift, everyone except Killua. And, you know, this was expected. With the kinds of friends they have, especially Alluka, Gon figured it would end up like this. Not that he’s complaining, the attention is just nerve-wracking. 

It’s just a little bit past midnight and Gon had just returned with his guitar when suddenly everyone started bombarding Killua with questions around the campfire.

“Gon said it would be a gift impossible to achieve here,” Aunt Mito says with sparkling eyes.

“Killuaaaa, tell us already,” Alluka visibly pouts, “you don’t even have anything with you!”

“Oh,” Leorio leans in with a teasing smile, “Killua, did you forget his present?”

“Of course I didn’t!” Killua exclaims with an incredulous look on his face, “you think I remembered yours but not his?”

“Yeah, the one who forgets things here is you Leorio,” Kurapika mentions with a smirk, “that old brain of yours is having trouble.”

“Oi, stop talking like Killua!”

“Ummm,” Gon clears his throat, “am I interrupting something?”

“No no no, don’t worry Gon,” Alluka stands up and pats her empty space, right beside Killua, “come on, this is yours.”

Gon nods and proceeds to walk towards them, but stumble is probably the correct term. All those nerves that settled at the pit of his stomach have traveled south, migrating towards his legs, making him wobble in each step he takes. Alluka shoots him a sympathetic smile while walking towards Gon’s previous seat. 

Killua looks up to him and gives him a shy smile, “Are we doing this or what?”

“Guess we are,” Gon replies and takes a seat beside him, positioning his guitar to play. He turns to look at Killua and begins to ask, “Are you going first? Or am—”

“—You can start,” Killua interrupts him, looking at someplace on his face that’s not his eyes, “I’ll...you’ll see.” 

“Okay,” Gon whispers, the nerves starting to invade his voice. He clears his throat twice and turns his gaze towards the campfire. He watches as the flames waltz dangerously in the night and it’s the last push he needs to start the song. He lets his fingers gently dance between the strings as he finally settles into the rhythm of the song. 

“I can be a wildfire, or I could be a flame,” Gon sings gently while his eyes stay fixated on the campfire, which seems appropriate for the song. “My love could be your ashes or a candle in your chest. We could both be lilies in the garden of your skin,” is he being obvious again? “But i know that we’re wilting, and it’s all because of me.”

“It’s all because of me,” Gon supposes he is being obvious, but maybe that’s the whole purpose of writing a song to someone. “But I just want to warm you up, I don’t want to ask too much,” the beat starts to quicken, “let me be your candlelight, be the comfort of your night.”

“Let me melt your pain, those snowflakes in your chest,” Gon feels something wet land on his nose, “It’s beauty masks your hurt,” he turns his head upwards, “and I just want to melt it all away.” Gon doesn’t know if maybe he’s projecting _too hard_ but he swears that the next thing that lands on his cheek is too thick and far too cold to be a drop of rain. And the only other thing that makes sense is—

“Snowflakes?” Gon hears Leorio whisper in confusion.

“Snowflakes for a heart,” Gon continues to sing while stealing a glance at Killua’s reddened cheeks, “a heat that doesn’t burn, heals all that has been hurt — lets memories scar instead of a coldness that numbs the past. ”

Now it’s undeniable that what’s falling is snowflakes, they’re bigger and thicker, slowly creating patches of white over the sand. “Let me be the flame that waltz in snow,” Gon fully turns to look at Killua, who’s giving him a sheepish smile, “because I just want to warm you up, I don’t want to ask too much. Let me be your candlelight,” Gon sings with widened eyes, and Killua looks away in surprise, probably embarrassed to make eye contact throughout the song, “be the comfort of your night. Let me melt your pain, those snowflakes in your chest.”

“It’s really snowing!” Alluka mentions in disbelief.

_“Its beauty masks your hurt.”_

“This is a miracle,” Aunt Mito says in wonder, her right hand turned towards the sky to collect snow on her palms.

 _“And I just want to melt it all away,”_ Gon finishes with a final strum to his guitar. 

“That’s my boy!” Leorio starts cheering loudly, “get them, tiger.”

“Leorio, only a dad would say that,” Kurapika rolls his eyes and turns to smile at Gon, “that was wonderful Gon, I didn’t know you could write like that.” 

“I didn’t know you could sing!” Alluka cheers alongside Leorio, “that was so pretty Gon.” 

Gon’s cheeks start heating up as he looks down towards the snow-covered sand. “Ah, you’re too kind guys,” he hides his smile behind his guitar, “it was all Killua, honestly.”

“Pfft, what?!” Killua exclaims, “I did nothing!”

“You’re the reason I could write the song,” Gon mumbles shyly behind his guitar, and the moment he finishes that sentence, it starts to _really_ snow. 

“Okay!” Aunt Mito claps her hands once and stands up, “we’re all going to enjoy the snow _right now,_ and you boys,” she points towards Gon and Killua. “You’re staying to enjoy the snow that’s _here_."

“Yup!” Alluka stands right beside Aunt Mito and proceeds to hook their arms together, “let’s go! Leorio, Kurapika!”

Leorio and Kurpika exchange a look before the four of them leave them alone. 

Alone with the fire and snow. 

_Snow._

_Right!_

Gon’s eyes excitedly jump around the piles of snow that are forming above the sand. His hand reaches down towards the snow as he feels the tips of his fingers sink into the coldness. The snow feels vibrant, despite its lack of color — just like how one can discover wondrous colors hiding beneath Killua’s pale cheeks.

“Killua!” Gon turns eagerly towards him, “you made it snow!”

“It appears that I did,” Killua responds in bewilderment, his eyes scanning the snow in the sand — then he shifts his gaze towards the sky. His eyes remain fixated in there, looking as if he couldn’t believe what just happened. “I finally heard you sing,” Killua mentions after a minute of silence, still looking upwards. 

“It appears that you did,” Gon repeats back to him, only to get an annoyed look thrown at him. “Did you—”

“—How’s the snow?” Killua interrupts him, an almost pleading look on his face.

“It’s just like how I imagined,” Gon lets the conversation take a turn despite wanting an answer more than anything. 

“What? Wet and cold?” Killua raises a questioning eyebrow. 

“No,” Gon shakes his head and lets his fingers knead the snow, “It feels like confetti.”

Killua raises both eyebrows at that, “Well that’s a weird comparison.”

And it honestly is, but it's exactly how Gon feels. Snow might as well be the opposite of what confetti is, and it's exactly the reason why they feel similar. It feels adventurous and just the right level of cold to trigger goosebumps. Gon knows he pictured snow to be as beautiful as Killua, and although snow _is_ looking breathtaking, nothing could rival the way Killua looks right now. It's night and his blush is brighter and far more dangerous than the flames of the campfire. His blue eyes are clearer than the snow and his smile might as well look like a constellation in the nightsky.

“Snow's almost as pretty as you,” and Gon gets a snowball to the face for that one.

“Hey!” he protests while cleaning the snow from his face, “that’s cold!”

“Oh really?” he hears the teasing tone in Killua’s voice, “I thought it would feel like confetti.”

“I’ll show you confetti,” Gon mutters to himself while forming his own snowball and throwing it at Killua’s shoulder. 

One snowball led to another, and it all ended in a full-on snowball fight with screams, laughter, and intertwined limbs — the latter being caused by Gon bodily throwing himself at Killua as a challenge. They were wrestling and throwing useless insults at each other until Killua ended on top of Gon, straddling his lap and restraining his hands above his head. 

“So,” Killua aggressively shakes off the snow from his hair — more than half of it landing on Gon’s face — “you liking the snow or what?” he looks down at Gon with a playful grin. 

“Yeah, I’m liking it,” Gon replies with his own grin, his chest rising and falling heavily — an indication that he was out of breath.

“You’re as honest as ever,” Killua’s grin softens and the grip on his wrists loosens. The softness shown in his features is what incites Gon into finally asking one of the many questions he wanted answers to. “Will you tell me how you made it snow?”

After a moment of thinking, Killua finally gives in, “Fine.” He removes his hands from Gon’s wrists and lets them come back to his sides. “It’s nen,” Killua declares, “from a specialist.” 

_Nen?!_

Gon can only stare in wonder, which only motivates Killua to continue, “She can make people’s weather alter depending on strong emotions. Paid her good to help me change the weather to snow — and she agreed.” Killua sits down on Gon’s legs, making sure to look anywhere else but his eyes, “the thing is, it all depended on the emotions a person associated with certain weather. Someone’s sadness might trigger rain, while someone else's might trigger snow.”

_What emotion triggered your snow?_ Gon yearned to ask but felt compelled to let Killua talk it out.

“I had to sit around and experiment which emotion triggered snow,” Killua chuckles, “I was going crazy—”

“—And that’s why you arrived in a different ship than Alluka,” Gon finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Killua finally looks back at him, “it took time. But, hey, it turned out to work at the right time. In your song.”

 _His song._ Gon almost forgot about his song. About all of his unspoken emotions poured into a melody for Killua.

“Did you like it?” Gon finally got to ask.

Killua doesn’t break eye contact, and it looks like he was anticipating the question, almost like he was waiting for it. His eyes swim through a variety of emotions — Gon’s unable to name them but he can almost put one to the shy scarlet on Killua’s cheeks. They both visibly swallow as time seems to center around them. And it’s Killua who commands the clock hand as he tightly grips the collar of Gon’s sweater — pulling him up and towards him. 

Their faces are the closest they’ve ever been, and Gon’s certain all truths lie inside Killua’s eyes. 

_Why do flowers bloom? How are the stars born? How bright does the moon shine?_ All the answers flicker inside Killua's eyes. And if it weren’t for Killua finally closing the distance between them, Gon might've gotten one. But, fortunately, he got an answer to the most important one.

Killua’s lips feel warm against his, too soft to be real, too palpable to not be. They move slow and experimental against his — _and it’s breathtaking._

Gon sits up properly, making Killua gently land on his lap. Their soft and tentative kisses find a rhythm and steadiness that makes Gon's hands tightly grip Killua’s waist. It's starting to get harder by the second to stop kissing, but lungs like reminding people about lack of air at the worst time. 

They both swiftly part to catch some air. “Does that answer your question?” Killua manages to say between breaths. 

Gon tries to answer but he’s too dazed and distracted, living inside Killua’s eyes. The still lit campfire makes all shadows dance and change positions. Gon’s heart casts one against the skin of pale hands. And if shadows were alive, his heart would beat against Killua’s palms. Instead, Gon feels it beat against his chest as he watches himself through Killua’s eyes.

“What was my question?” Gon finally asks, because he cannot _for the life of him_ think about anything else but the kiss that just happened. 

“Dummy,” Killua chuckles, breathless. There’s almost no blue left on his eyes with his pupils blown wide, and that makes Gon’s hands grip tighter at his waist — wanting nothing more than to rewind time to 30 seconds ago. “I liked your song,” Killua admits, a smile on his face that Gon’s not sure he’s ever seen before. And it’s all he truly wants to see. 

“I’m glad,” Gon rests his forehead on Killua’s shoulder, “I really wanted you to like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

They both remain silent for a while, processing everything that just happened. The snow is beginning to feel too cold and wet beneath him, but Gon’s too happy and comfortable to care about it. 

“Well,” Killua speaks up after a while, “If you’re smart enough, you can guess what emotion triggered the snow.”

Gon _is_ smart enough, he will fight anyone who says otherwise. The thing is, some things about Killua remain a mystery to him. Sometimes Gon feels like he knows what Killua's feeling, and then he's surprised to find that it was a reflection, a shadow, of what he truly felt. Gon was almost always there _, almost._ But that is one of the things he loves most about Killua, knowing he's able to learn things about him everyday. Some things remain the same, while others change. Gon likes knowing and not knowing. Gon likes the feeling of something old and new, the comfort of home and the spontaneity of a new adventure. He supposes this is how life is meant to be, at least for him. _For them._

He lifts his head from Killua’s shoulders and frowns in thought. Maybe an obvious answer might be the correct one? “Happiness?” Gon guesses.

"No," Killua snorts, “it's love, you absolute imbecile.” 

Killua looks delighted to say that, and Gon’s mesmerized with his happiness. His smile is almost too distracting that Gon forgets how to properly process a conversation. 

_Love,_ Killua had said.

_Love, love, love._

Gon's eyes land on Killua's forearm, and although he cannot see anything but his sweater, he knows there's a tattoo there that adorns his skin. If this were Gon from two years ago he would've given anything to be ink on Killua's skin. _Permanent._ He yearned to be everlasting. But Gon's his own brand of ink. His eyes shift to Killua's chest, and even though he's unable to see through skin, he knows Killua's heart is in there. And in there lies Gon's own ink, undying love — endless and unchanging. 

That's what Killua said, right?

_Love._

“Killuaaaaaa,” Gon whines after putting all the pieces together, “I wanted to say it first.”

“Goooooon,” Killua whines back playfully, rolling his eyes. “I technically haven’t ‘officially’ said it.”

At that, they both do a 30 seconds stare down before almost yelling in each other's faces.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Then they do a full minute stare down with a soft blush growing on both of their cheeks. They were too dumb, and Gon was too in love. Too in love with the way they shouted years of repressed emotions like it was as easy as breathing. As easy as a heart beating.

“Mmmm,” Killua hums in feigned thought, “maybe that was very stupid and anti-climatic of us.”

“Actually," Gon gives him a cheeky smile, "I think that was very smart and romantic of us."

“Augh, don’t say romantic.”

“Romantic.”

“You say that again and I won’t say yes to being your boyfriend,” Killua squints his eyes down at him.

“Who said anything about—”

Killua grabs his collar again and pulls him into a chaste kiss, physically shutting him up. And Gon doesn’t like being interrupted, but if it was always like this he wouldn’t really mind. _Not at all._

“Boyfriend,” Gon says right after they separate, “I'd like that, _please.”_

“Needy much?” Killua teases.

“Yes.”

“Good, I'd like that too,” Killua gives him that new and gentle smile of his. And perhaps it wasn’t new at all, but just a smile that Killua always directed at Gon when he wasn’t looking. “Merry Christmas, you idiot.”

_Ah, yes, it was Christmas._

It appears that November has come and passed — the weather got colder, just like every year. They’re in the last two weeks of December, right on Christmas, just like it’s meant to be. Winter is here, meaning snow should arrive soon — _and it did._

Stars remain in the sky because that’s where they’re meant to be. Killua though, he’s not out of reach. Like a snowflake on his hand, it is snowing at last, and he can finally embrace him.

“Merry Christmas Killua.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this absolute train wreck of a fic. I literally wrote the last third without any sleep so if you guys see shit writing i'm sorry, i forgot how to function like a normal human being KJHSDKFJH
> 
> Anyways, A WONDERFUL THANK YOU TO MY BEAUTIFUL FRIENDS [**Toasty**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastedtofu/pseuds/toastedtofu) and [**Tele!**](https://telehxhtrash.tumblr.com/) They helped beta my word vomiting and were really wonderful and nice, which helped a bunch with motivation :3
> 
> Thank you all for staying till the end ;;n;; hope you guys enjoyed Gon being a bit emo and writing songs HAHAHAHAHD killua's usually the emo one, let's give Gon an opportunity to go through his edgy face (LOL okay not as edgy as CA arc though //blurry eyes//)
> 
> You're welcome to bother me at my [**Tumblr**](https://wordsbymarcy.tumblr.com/) or [**Twitter!**](https://twitter.com/marcymore) Make me your friend.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!! Leave a comment if you can!! Sending all of you love, wash your hands, take care of yourselves :)
> 
> _Marcy._


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